No Vacancy - Roronoa Zoro, One Piece
Summary: When the inn you're staying at on an island runs out of rooms, you and zoro are forced by the others to share one room—and one bed. You both don’t like each other and the others think you might work things out and get along better. He comes into the room very drunk and… well.
Tags: enemies to lovers/or just fucking, rough, dom!zoro, sub!reader, female reader, drunk zoro, fingers in mouth, blowjob, little bit of fingering, choking, unprotected sex, lots of “shut up“, cumming inside
Word Count: 3,7k
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"You've got to be kidding me," you say, staring at the innkeeper like she's speaking another language.
"I'm afraid not," she replies with a polite bow. "Every room is taken. Except one."
The word "one" echoes in your skull like a threat. Slowly, you turn your head. Zoro is standing right beside you, arms crossed, jaw tight, already scowling.
"No way," you and he snap at the same time.
Back at the ship, you didn't think much of it when the rest left earlier than you and Zoro to get to the inn. They were just 10 minutes ahead, not much. But now you regret nothing more.
Robin practically lights up. "Perfect! One room left, for the two of you. What luck."
"Absolutely not," you bark, stepping back. "I'll sleep in the stables. Or on the damn docks."
Comedically enough, thunder rumbles over the island before the words are even out of your mouth, a crack of lightning spilling white across the windows. Rain slams down in sheets, so loud it drowns out the tavern chatter. The door slams under the force of the wind, and suddenly, the idea of sleeping outside isn't just miserable—it's impossible.
"I'll sleep in the hall," Zoro growls.
"No, you won't," Nami says, far too amused. "Innkeeper says no guests in common areas."
"Or the floor," you insist, desperate.
Usopp waves you off. "Already checked. Not allowed."
The innkeeper places a single key on the counter with a soft clink. One key. One room.
Your stomach sinks. Zoro's eye twitches. The rest of the crew is already smirking, herding you both toward the stairs like it's the funniest thing they've seen all week.
You dig in your heels. "I'm not doing this."
There's no way out—the storm roars, the crew blocks your escape, and the only option is the one standing beside you, equally furious, equally trapped.
Luffy—who'd apparently been in the bathroom this entire time but had heard enough of the conversation to piece it together—steps out, drying his hands on his shorts. His face is unusually serious.
"You are," he says, tone leaving no room for argument. "It's an order from your captain."
"What—!? No—" you protest, whipping toward him.
"Luffy, sto—" Zoro starts, but both of you are immediately silenced when Luffy raises an index finger and presses it against your mouths at the same time.
"Shhhhhhh…" He closes his eyes, wearing that oddly peaceful expression he gets when he's already made up his mind. "I don't wanna hear it. You two are staying in that room. Together."
You pull back, heat prickling up your neck. "Luffy, come on, you can't be serious—"
"I am serious," he cuts in, voice firm in a way that makes you falter. "Your 'hate-each-other-for-fun' act? It's getting old. It's annoying. And it's not good for the crew."
Zoro stiffens at that, but Luffy doesn't give him a chance to argue. He plants his hands on his hips like it's final.
"Maybe," he says with a bright grin now creeping back in, "if you're stuck together, you'll get over it. Or fight it out. Either way, problem solved."
Zoro exhales through his nose, shoulders tight. "Luffy… please. I've been here since the beginning. You gotta—"
But Luffy just waves him off, already turning away. "Nope. Decision's made." He tilts his head toward the stairs. "Now go. Room's waiting."
The crew's muffled laughter bubbles in the background. You and Zoro both stand there, cornered, equally furious and equally powerless under your captain's command. When you glance at him, he looks just as miserable as you feel.
And yet, with your captain's order hanging heavy in the air, neither of you has a choice.
Both of you make your way to the room.
You push the door open first, trying not to look at Zoro, but he's right behind you, shoulder almost brushing yours. The room is tiny, the kind of space that smells faintly of old wood and sea salt.
And then you see it.
One bed. Single, narrow, barely enough room for one person to stretch out.
Your stomach twists. "No," you murmur, disbelief thick in your voice. "No no no no no, this can't—"
"Stop whining, your voice is annoying," Zoro snaps without looking up from where he's dumping his bag.
"Your face is annoying," you fire back, crossing your arms.
"Didn't know I was sharing a room with a five-year-old," he mutters, flopping onto the edge of the bed with deliberate irritation.
"What is that even supposed to mean?"
"It means that you're getting on my nerves," he says, voice low and clipped.
"Yeah? Great. I love seeing you suffer."
"I love not seeing you at all," he replies instantly, eyes narrowing.
The silence stretches between you. You take another look around the room. It was about 3 square meters of floor, then the bed, and—no yeah, that was it. A tiny bathroom also cuts out a good chunk of the room.
"This is… cruel," you mutter, more to yourself than to him.
"Not my fault," Zoro says, leaning back, his back hitting the mattress. Mumbling a low "oh this is comfortable, though."
You step back, hands on your hips. "Not your fault? You could have objected when Luffy said this."
"I did," he replies flatly, voice low enough to be a growl. "Didn't work. God, are you deaf and five years old?"
"Shut the fuck up, Zoro," you snap.
"Oh, who taught you those bad words?" he asks in a sarcastically exaggerated tone.
The air is thick with tension, every small sound amplified: the wind rattling the shutters, the faint drip of rain from the roof, the scrape of a bag against the wooden floor.
"Rock paper scissors," you say without explaining.
"What—are you talking about?" Zoro says irritably, lifting his head off the mattress, glancing your way.
"Rock paper scissors for who takes the bed and who takes the floor," you explain, already holding out your fist.
"If that's what will make you shut up finally…" He lifts his right hand and forms a fist too.
"Rock, paper, scissors!" you both shout in unison, hands swinging down.
He throws scissors. You throw scissors.
A beat of silence.
"…Seriously?" You mutter, staring at his hand like it personally offended you.
Zoro sighs through his nose, the sound heavy with annoyance.
"Okay, again," You say quickly, already resetting your fist.
He groans but raises his hand anyway. "You're going to regret this."
"Rock, paper, scissors!"
Both of you drop rock.
You throw your head back with a dramatic groan. "Oh, come on!"
"Stop copying me," he snaps, glaring at you like you planned this somehow.
"You're the one copying me!" You shoot back, leaning forward as if the extra inches will prove your point.
His eye narrows. "I've been using these signs since before you were even—"
"Blah, blah, excuses," you cut him off, waving a hand. "One more. This is the last one. Got it?"
He exhales slowly, like he's counting to ten in his head. "Fine. Last one. And when I win, you're shutting up for the rest of the night."
"You wish."
You both lower your fists, tense, as though you're about to duel for real instead of playing a children's game.
"Rock. Paper. Scissors!"
You slam your hand down into rock. He cuts the air with scissors.
For a second, your brain almost doesn't register it—then it clicks.
"YES!" you yell, springing to your feet. You kiss your fist dramatically, holding it high like a champion showing off a trophy. "Rock beats scissors, baby!"
Zoro doesn't even flinch. He just watches you with a flat, unimpressed stare, as if he's debating whether throwing you out into the storm would be worth the trouble.
"You look ridiculous right now," he scoffs finally, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
"Ridiculous and victorious." You drop back onto the bed with a triumphant flop, bouncing on the mattress just to rub it in. "Enjoy the floor."
He grumbles something too low for you to catch, but the clatter of his swords being shifted against the wall makes it clear he's accepting defeat.
—
The storm hasn't quieted at all. If anything, the rain has only grown heavier, hammering against the shutters like it's trying to claw its way inside. You lie flat on the bed, staring up at the ceiling beams, restless and prickling with the leftover edge of the argument.
Your mind won't shut up.
Why do I hate him so much?
You roll onto your side, huffing into the pillow. Because he's arrogant. Because he thinks he's better than everyone else. Because he never listens, and he always pushes, and he walks around like the world owes him something. Because he looks at you with that damn eye like he's already figured you out—like you're predictable, like you're small.
That's why. That has to be why.
You squeeze your eyes shut. "Stupid swordsman," you mutter under your breath.
The minutes crawl by, and at some point your eyelids grow heavy, the storm fading into background noise.
Later, the door bangs open. You wake up but don't bother looking because you know it's him, and the bed is yours tonight.
Zoro stumbles in, nearly taking the door off its hinges. His swords clatter against the wall as he kicks them aside carelessly, his heavy boots dragging against the floorboards. His face is flushed, his eye half-lidded, and there's no mistaking the smell of sake rolling off him in waves.
Then—completely ignoring the deal—he drops onto the bed beside you.
Your heart stutters. "What the fuck are you doing?"
"Sleeping," he grunts, already dragging half the blanket toward himself.
"No." You tug it back, wide-eyed. "No, no, no. The deal was—you take the floor. That's yours. This—" You jab a finger down at the bed "—is mine."
"I don't fucking care," he says, voice low, slurred, dismissive in a way that makes your blood boil. He stretches out like it's already decided.
"You—" You choke on your own frustration. "You can't just—!"
"I can," he mutters, settling deeper into the pillow, eyes sliding shut. "And I am."
"Are you serious right now? We had an agreement!"
He just grunts, eyes already closing. "Don't care. 'M tired."
You try pushing at his shoulder. "Zoro, get up!"
He's dead weight from the alcohol, and you're trying to shove him off while he halfheartedly swats you away. It's more annoying than aggressive, but you're both getting frustrated.
"You wouldn't feel anything sleeping on the floor anyway," you snap, breathless from the struggle. "You could pass out on a pile of swords and still snore through it."
He shifts onto his side, eye cracked open, a slow smirk tugging at his lips. "Maybe. But why would I, when the bed's right here?"
Your hands ball into fists. "You are the most—!" You throw the blanket off, swinging your legs to stand. "Fine! If you want the bed that bad, you can have it. I'll take the damn floor."
You start to stand, but his hand shoots out and grabs your wrist.
"Where you going?"
"To the floor, since you're being impossible!"
"God," Zoro mutters, his grip surprisingly steady for how drunk he is. His voice is lower now, rough, carrying more weight than his usual sniping. "Stop being so childish."
You freeze, pulse kicking up at the warmth of his hand around yours.
"Childish? You—!" You breathe, turning toward him.
But he pulls you back with more force than either of you expected, and suddenly you're tumbling back toward the bed, landing across his chest with your face inches from his.
The world goes very, very still.
You're both breathing hard from the struggle, your hands braced against his chest, his arm still wrapped around your waist from where he caught you. His eye is wide now, the alcohol-hazed irritation replaced by something sharper, more focused.
"You—" you start, but your voice comes out barely a whisper.
You both just stare into each other's eyes. Not saying a word. You could count his eyelashes if you wanted to. See every speck of color in his iris.
His free hand comes up, fingers brushing against your cheek, and you realize you're trembling. Not from cold. Not from anger.
"Shut up," he murmurs, but there's no bite in it. His thumb traces along your jaw, and your breath catches.
"Make me," you whisper back, the words slipping out before you can stop them.
Something shifts in his expression—something dangerous and wanting—and then his hand is sliding to the back of your neck, pulling you down, and his mouth is on yours.
The kiss is desperate, messy, tasting of sake and frustration and all the words you've been throwing at each other like weapons. You move to his lap, your hands fisted in his shirt.
When you shift slightly, he groans against your lips, the sound vibrating through your chest. Both of you felt that.
You finally break apart. Breathing hard. Foreheads pressed together.
"We shouldn't—" You start, but your words fade out again.
"Probably not," He agrees, but his hand stays tangled in your hair. Zoro is looking at you like he's seeing you for the first time. You don't move. You feel it—the faint outline of his cock—press into you.
The storm outside now very far away. But your lips aren't. You both just stare—unsure of what had just happened—but not disliking it.
Zoro leans in again.
It's a fraction slower but not even a bit less hungry or desperate. It burns hotter than the first, slower only because you’re both savoring the collision you swore yourself would never happen. His teeth catch your lip. You gasp into his mouth, half a protest, half a plea, before giving in and pulling him closer.
Zoro shifts suddenly, rolling you beneath him with one arm braced against the mattress, the other still locked firm around your waist, pulling you closer. The bed creaks under the weight, but neither of you care—your world has narrowed to the drag of his breath, the sharp edge of his jaw brushing your cheek, the heat radiating off him in waves.
You shove at his chest out of instinct, a final flicker of resistance. “This is a mistake,” you breathe, even as your fingers curl tighter in his shirt.
His eye flicks up, locking with yours, dark and blazing. “Then stop me.”
You don’t.
Instead, your hips shift under his, grinding into him, and his composure cracks—he curses under his breath, catching your mouth again, even hungrier now. Even messier. As though neither of you can stand the thought of space existing between you.
His hands are everywhere—at your waist, sliding up your back, tangling into your hair with a grip just tight enough to make you shiver.
You press harder against him, straddling his hips, the thin mattress squeaking under the restless push and pull of your bodies. The kiss turns into a battle for dominance, his teeth grazing your lip as if daring you to fight back.
You do.
You fist his shirt in both hands, yanking it up, dragging your nails along the skin beneath. He groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating against your chest, and it sends heat flooding through you. He rolls his hips up into you without a thought, a rough, instinctive movement that steals your breath.
“Zoro—” his name leaves your mouth like a warning, like a plea.
“Shut up,” he mutters against your lips, dragging you down into another searing kiss. His tongue parts your mouth, slow but insistent, and for once you don’t fight him—you melt, trembling with the sharp, dangerous edge of wanting him.
His lips leave yours, trailing against your jaw, down your neck, pulling your shirt down to get to your shoulder. He rips your shirt off your head, then his, discharging his waist warmer, the haramaki, with it.
“No bra?” He asks slyly. “Slutty.”
“I never sleep with a bra on.”
“Good to know.” His hands go over your chest, fingers closing around your nipple, teasing it mercilessly. Zoro takes both your hands and pins them down above your head with one of his. This time, as he kisses you, your lower stomach burns with anticipation.
He pulls back enough to look you in the eyes when he hooks a finger under the waistband of your pajama shorts. You lift your hips slightly, making it easier for him to pull them down. All while keeping your eyes right on his.
You're completely exposed. Vulnerabil.
Zoro traces a finger from your lip down your jaw—you close your eyes, feeling every single drag of his fingertip—neck, over your chest, your stomach, and your—
“For someone that hates me, you're enjoying this pretty much.” Zoro says from above—smirking at the way you bite your bottom lip—you open your eyes again.
“Shut u—“
He sticks two fingers in your mouth.
"—Mppfwhatar—!" You're cut off by your own moan as he tugs your panties down and plunges both of the fingers at once into your hole. No mercy.
Amused by the way you react—trying to stand up but not being able to because he's still pinning you down easily with one hand—he smirks triumphantly.
“Don’t even try to act like you don’t enjoy this. Wouldn't even have needed your spit to make them go in; you were already wet enough.” You try to answer, but his fingers are curling inside of you so perfectly, you can bring out nothing but moans. Your eyelids close out of pleasure.
“Eyes open, slut.” Surprisingly enough, you obey without a struggle.
“Didn’t know you could be this submissive…” he smirks. “Do it more often; you wear it well.“
“Don’t get ignorant, swordsman.” You grit your teeth. You free your hands from his grip and push him. His back hits the mattress. You whine internally at the loss of his fingers inside of you.
“Don’t think you’re the one in control, sweetheart.” He says but doesn't protest.
You look down to his crotch.
“Seems like you are enjoying this too.”
“Don’t get too cock—fuck.” His cock springs free, and your hand is on it immediately. Stroking it at a rapid pace. His face contorts, his nose crunching, eyebrows furrowed, mouth opened. He tips his head back, a low whispery groan leaving his lips.
You chuckle at his reaction.
"Come on, use that pretty fucking mouth of yours already.“ you do.
Sticking your tongue out, you lick his tip, circling around it, dragging from the base to the tip. Low grunts leave him.
He forces your head down on his whole cock at once as soon as he gets the chance. Your hand grips his thigh, your nails digging into his skin, as you choke. You try to pull your head away, but he keeps you there.
“…yeah…” He hums satisfyingly. Then he releases you. “…shit…“
“—HEY” You yell, spit dripping down your chin.
“Shut the fuck up and continue.” You give him a look of protest but do what he says anyway. Hollowing out your cheeks, swallowing when his tip hits the back of your throat every time you sink your head down on his cock. You choke occasionally when you take him down to the base but don't care. He grunts, his hips thrusting up into your mouth.
“Fuck…yes…” he moans out your name. You pull your head off his dick again.
"Didn't know you could talk so much, you grumpy asshole."
“You talk too much.” Zoro shoves you back into the mattress. Holding you in place with one hand pressing on your stomach.
He leans back and runs a hand through his hair. With his hands he forces your legs to spread, then spits into one.
"Hopefully this'll make you shut up finally." He rubs the spit-covered hand over his cock, then positions himself and—
“AH—” You cry out. He is so, so big. His hand flows over your mouth but he stops moving.
“Oh my god, shut up.” He grunts. "Or d'you want the crew to know what we're doing? Mh?” He slurs his words, a reminder of how drunk he is.
Shit. Right—the crew.
He doesn't give any more time to worry as he starts moving, setting a slow rhythm. His hips slapping against yours. Each grind jolts through you, sparkling pleasure along every nerve.
A “fuck” sneaks past your lips, interrupted by his thrust. Zoro's hand finds your boobs, which are bouncing up and down with every push. Your nipples being pinched and teased makes your back lift off the bed.
“Your pussy is practically sucking me in. Fuck." Zoro leans down, placing a rough kiss on your lips.
He starts fucking you deeper. So good. You can't even think anymore.
Then suddenly he stops. Your hips move on their own.
“Oh my god, you’re so fucking desperate.” He laughs.
“Please—Zoro.” You sigh, frustrated. "Please…"
“Please what?“
“Please… just fuck me.” You cringe at your words, but you couldn't take it anymore.
Zoro groans, giving you an approving nod, grinning. Then his hips snap against yours so much it almost hurts. Hammering into you at a rapid pace.
“Can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this—shit,” he grunts again. You can feel every little vein of his dick inside of you.
Everything is so overwhelming.
Zoro brings his hands to your clit. Rubbing his thumb violently fast on the nub. "Ahh—shit—!" You shudder, your high flushing over you suddenly.
“So fucking tight.” You feel it in your neck, your fingertips, your—stomach. Your toes curl at the pleasure.
By the time you come down again, breathing heavy, you feel his thrusts growing sloppier. His breath is uneven. He kisses you again, hard. Slow.
“Shit, I’ll—” He moans, his hands moving to your neck. Pressing down. You feel it. Him—shooting into you. Painting your walls with his cum. A quiet, mumbled moan leaves your mouth, ruined by him choking you.
A painful-sounding groan rips from his throat as he fucks his semen into your pussy with a last few thrusts.
He drops down beside you. Sweaty. Exhausted.
Quiet seeps in between you as his cum leaks out of you onto the bed.
"Didn't think you'd be one to first pleasure the other, swordsman.“
"I'm not."
“Oh, so I'm special?” You blink at him teasingly.
“No—just wanted to see you lose control. Now shut up and go to sleep.“
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Thanks for reading! Planning on getting the second part out soon.
If you liked this, you may like my other stuff too!